Thursday, November 13, 2008

Mistakes Were Made



I am often asked if I ever make mistakes when I am conducting. The answer, of course, is yes. In any given concert I make hundreds of decisions and give innumerable cues and am bound to get some of them wrong. By “decisions” I don’t mean that we’re making this up as we go along. The purpose of rehearsals is to set tempos and establish our approach to any given passage of music. But we are not machines and every time we go on stage the outcome is a little different. This is especially true when we are accompanying singers. I am also inclined to get into bad habits, especially when I am tired. I may let my arms get too low and then catch the tip of my baton on the edge of my music stand and send the baton cartwheeling through the air or have a particularly nettlesome conducting problem which gets inside my head and causes me grief. Then there is the random screwup which cannot be anticipated.

In my view, if there is ever a moment of doubt or confusion during a performance it is my fault. A poor cue from me can cause a good player make a mistake, since he may have a difficult entrance which is made more difficult by my lack of clarity. In my defense, some music is...unmusical. A given passage may arbitrarily compound rapid meter and tempo changes, added or dropped measures because it was originally composed as underscore to accompany action on screen. There is no melody or internal logic per se. In this case my job is to put the downbeats in the right place and reassure musicians who may have had a lengthy time out that this is, indeed, the place where they are to make their fortissimo entrance. The most terrifying moments come when, in spite of my best efforts, the orchestra gets out of sync with itself. Say, the intricate interlocking harp far stage left is out of sync with the pizzicato strings to my right, thus sounding like musical popcorn. Or the fortissimo percussion passage lands a 1/2 beat early of the rest of the orchestra. Though I may not have created the problem I do have to fix it. This usually amounts to picking a side and sticking with it until everyone else finds us. To me this may take an eternity but in actuality may take 2 seconds and no one but those involved have any idea of the drama onstage.

To keep this in perspective, often after a concert I will be kicking myself over some dumb mistake I made and will ask Karen (who sees us every day) if she noticed it. Invariably, the answer is no. The kind of mistakes I’m talking about would not be discernible from the audience. But of course, the orchestra knows. Since the majority of our communication is through the eyes they know if there is even a moment of doubt that may not show up in an actual gesture. Having sat through hundreds of hours of rehearsals and concerts they read me like a book. The standard we are all seeking is perfection, which, of course, is never achieved.

Monday, November 10, 2008

The Musician


Disney on Classic plays the nicest, most prestigious concert halls in the cities we visit. We are preceded and followed by the most famous names in the international music scene. At the Sejong Center in Seoul last week we followed Jose Carreras (one of the famous “3 Tenors”). The backstage walls in Niigata where we perform are emblazoned with a Who’s Who of artistic autographs from John Adams to Zubin Mehta. My dressing room in Osaka has autographed personal notes and photos of Herbert Von Karajan and Karl Böhm on the wall. It freaks me out to think that Von Karajan’s dressing room is now mine. I don’t even want to contemplate who has preceded me at Suntory Hall. It's too intimidating. I often suspect that when I tell people who actually know me what I do for a living they either don’t understand what I’m saying or they’re saying to themself, “Really? You? But you’re so...average.” There is the old saying that an expert is an average guy with a briefcase, far from home. That certainly applies to me. I’m about as average as they come. My parent’s weren’t musicians, I went to the public schools and had a very undistinguished career at an undistinguished college. In the display windows at the halls where we are appearing are the the posters of distinguished artists who will be appearing after Disney on Classic leaves town. Violinists, pianists, singers of every type, all looking so very sincere, so very well coifed, so very...artistic. I watch our concert master even as he is tuning up. The way he walks onstage, bows to the audience, his hand as he grips the bow. Then I look at me. I look at myself on the podium and it looks to me like I’m shaking a hammer handle at 60 people. Regular guys know about hammers.

It is also said that an expert is someone who has made every mistake possible in a very narrow field. This also applies to me. Spectacular, public error has been my teacher from day one. I have bombed so many times they should name a B-52 after me. Most people with any sense at all would have quit, and in fact, 99.9% of all the aspiring musicians I started with have gone back to being band directors, selling insurance, fixing automobiles and other real jobs. Meanwhile, here I am, sort of like the girl who came to LA to be a waitress but all the jobs were taken so she became an actress. A regular guy in a world of guys with 3 names.